Rewind Twice
by girl in the glen
Summary: Surprise encounters with old acquaintances make life interesting. Comments are always welcome.


"Do you have any change, I need some aspirin." Illya and Napoleon were passing in front of a drug store when the Russian asked his partner for the small loan.

"I, uh… hmmm…" Napoleon jangled his pockets in search of the money Illya had asked for. Not surprisingly, the pockets were empty.

"Sorry Illya, I don't seem… well… _sorry_." Illya rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples. The headache was real, probably from lack of sleep, but in every sense of the term he was hurting.

"Why am I not surprised. You seem never to have the necessary funds for whatever our needs may be." The headache was making the Russian a little grumpy. Napoleon was sorry, but he didn't tend to carry things in his pockets; unnecessary weights ruined the cut of his suit.

"Don't you have any money? You're usually the one with all the cash on hand." Napoleon had borrowed from his partner on more than one occasion, so to not be able to help him out now was a bit of an embarrassment.

Now Illya's head was really pounding. Of course he had cash, he simply had not wanted to break a ten dollar bill for an item that he could buy for twenty-nine cents… plus tax.

One more eye roll for effect and the blond agent turned into the little pharmacy. He'd gladly pay ten dollars for the little tin of aspirin if it would make the headache go away.

As Napoleon waited outside for his partner he noticed something going on across the street. They had come to this little town to pick up an item from the police chief; it was a time sensitive report on a THRUSH operation nearby. The man they had met with, the chief, just happened to be a retired UNCLE operative who had given up the Command in order to serve his hometown in this capacity. Waverly had given his blessing to the change in careers for Nelson Patterson, and now they had an ally in a most unlikely location; one in which THRUSH had unwittingly chosen to do business.

Looking across at the little scuffle going on in front of the bakery where he had bought pastries for himself and his always hungry partner, Napoleon thought he recognized one of the people involved. A young woman seemed to be the cause of the argument that was escalating into a shouting match. The proprietor of the bakery came to the door and seemed to be asking that the trio quiet down or move on. Instead of complying, one of them pulled a gun and pushed the baker and the other two people inside the door of the bakery. Napoleon turned to see Illya walking towards him and motioned for him to drop down behind a parked car, which they both did to the Russian's questioning expression.

"What are we doing Napoleon? Have you gone quite mad… finally?" The question was ignored as Napoleon described the scene from across the street. Illya popped open the little tin of aspirin and downed three of them, making a face as he chewed them up dry.

"Okay then, I suppose we need to work out a plan of action. You said you thought the girl looked familiar." Leave it to Napoleon to recognize a woman in the midst of a brawl in a strange town.

"Illya, I _think_ it was Terry Cook. Her hair was longer but… That girl shows up in the strangest places."

Illya leaned back against the car, his blond hair falling over one eye as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Why would _she_ be here? Do you think there's more to the story that we know? That woman is a nuisance but she does seem to have a nose for the same stories we're chasing." Both men thought back to the Gurnius Affair and another encounter in the **Sierra Nevadas. Illya was right, Terry tended to show up looking for the same people as UNCLE.

Napoleon turned around and peeked over the hood of the car to the bakery, hoping to see something through the window. It was hard to tell, but there seemed to be some activity involving Terry and the fellow who'd been doing all of the yelling.

Turning back to his partner, Napoleon thought he had an idea about how to get inside.

"Illya, you take the front and I'll go around to the back of the building. I didn't recognize the two men with Terry, so I don't think they will know you. If they're THRUSH, which I'm inclined to think they are, then we need to stop whatever it is they're up to. I'm going to contact Headquarters and have them get in touch with Chief Patterson, he'll want to be in on whatever this is."

A larger than life sigh from Illya was a dramatic response to both the situation and the still throbbing headache. Still, this was the life he led and duty called. He just hoped there were jelly doughnuts left inside that bakery; he needed to be rewarded for this morning's annoyances.

First Kuryakin and then Solo, each man going in opposite directions to the other as their plan commenced. Illya walked down the sidewalk about fifty feet before crossing the street and doubling back towards the bakery. Napoleon went in the other direction and crossed at an alley that would take him to the back of the row of buildings that housed their objective.

The little town, situated in upstate New York, had a modest Russian population. Illya took advantage of that as he opened the bakery door and began to inquire about the morning's display of products. It was a stroke of luck that the door had remained unlocked, perhaps an indication that there was less trouble than had been suspected.

"I vant jelly today, yes… Da, jelly in my doughnuts." He appeared hapless and well intentioned, all in an effort to keep some peace inside this little shop. The man behind the counter didn't make eye contact with the blond customer, but instead kept cutting his eyes toward the man sitting at the table with … yes, it was Terry Cook.

Illya gave the smallest shake of his head when he looked at Terry, hoping to stop her from showing any sign of recognition. She was a bright girl, so hopefully she'd know that Napoleon was close by and that anything she did to draw attention to Illya would ruin the plan, such as it was.

"Spaciba… ah, and dat vun as cell… da." Illya growled with delight at his choices, secretly hoping he would actually have a chance to eat them. Terry was quiet, her eyes downcast. _Good girl, just keep your cool_ , thought Illya.

Instead of leaving with his confections, Illya took a seat near the window and removed a doughnut from the crinkly white paper bag. Three of them, time enough to create some tension in the room and give Napoleon opportunity to get into the shop through the back door. The conversation between Terry and the other two men with her had ceased, but Illya could see a gun beneath the table in the hand of the bigger of the pair. Terry's camera was on the table, but it was the second fellow who held it. So that was the center of this squall. Terry had photographed something that these two didn't want published.

Illya bit into the first doughnut, wiping the raspberry filling from his lips in a motion that caught the big man's attention. Who was this guy and why could he have taken his doughnuts home with him? Suspicion began to fill his features as Illya took a second bite, certain that it was about to get ugly.

"You, vat you looking' at tovarisch? Got problem vith Russian? I give you no bizness for trouble, just eat doughnut. Da, dat's good fellow." Illya assumed a silly grin and took another bite. Where was Napoleon?

The big guy didn't look happy though and he mentally began to flip through images of UNCLE agents he'd encountered in the past. This one looked familiar, a scrappy little blond with a funny accent.

"Hey you, I don't think you're here for a doughnut. Get up and put your hands on your head." The man was standing now, heading towards Illya with the gun in plain sight. Terry looked stricken, memories of her encounters with the two UNCLE agents all morphing into one terrifying nightmare of abductions and torture and …

Terry shot up out of her chair and screamed, catching the two THRUSH off guard as she grabbed her camera and swung it at the smaller of the two. It crashed against his forehead and sent him reeling backwards. Illya dove into the man with the gun just as Napoleon bolted into the room, unable to engage in either of the battles being waged by Illya and Terry.

When Terry saw Solo she squealed with relief and happiness at the sight of her favorite spy. Throwing her arms around his neck almost cost the battle however, and he had to shove her aside at the sound of a gunshot. The big man with the gun was down but so was Illya, and something like the raspberry jelly was spreading on the floor beneath them.

"Illya! Illya, are you…?"

"No, but my head still hurts and my doughnut is ruined." Relief flooded the CEA, and a certain amount of humor broke into the somber reality of a man's death. The THRUSH was dead, his companion still knocked out from the blow from Terry's camera. Illya was covered in both blood and raspberry jelly as he got up with some help from his friend.

"So, what was all of this about?" Napoleon had turned to Terry, a raised eyebrow the punctuation to his question. Terry looked a little flustered, and then she decided she was mad.

"Napoleon Solo, here I am being kidnapped by these thugs and you don't even have a nice thing to say to me? I'll have you know I used my camera to knock out that guy, and it probably ruined my film. I had a great story going here, and you…"

"Terry! Enough, I apologize for ruining your story. I'm sure Illya is also truly sorry he …" Illya glowered a little and then added…

"I saved your life and ruined my doughnut. You really ought to think about a change in professions." Now it was Terry who pouted and then vented just one more complaint.

"You have a lot of nerve. I probably saved _your life_ Illya."

Both men shook their heads, the consternation of dealing with Terry Cook always took a toll on them. The man behind the counter had watched all of this with disbelieving eyes. Things like this just didn't happen in their little town. When Chief Patterson walked in on the scene, the two exchanged looks that spoke of their shared concern and mutual wish that all of those involved would now leave.

The two THRUSH were taken away, one to the morgue and the other to jail. Patterson and Waverly would confer on the next course of action. Napoleon, Illya and Terry went as quickly as possible to their respective vehicles and agrees to not cross paths again unless it was for something more pleasant. Terry was due back at her magazine for the next assignment, and the UNCLE agents had reports to file. Napoleon drove while Illya nursed the headache that continued to rage behind icy blue eyes. Two more aspirin and a long nap revived him enough to sit at Alexander Waverly's table and report the incident alongside his partner.

After the debrief, agents Solo and Kuryakin checked into Medical as per usual. Napoleon was fine. Illya however was in the beginning throes of a flu bug that required he remain there overnight. His partner called Regina Lark from the Translations desk for a last minute dinner date, leaving the Russian to languish in the care of the new nurse, just in from ***Paris. To Illya's surprise she was someone he had known years before, in Paris. As it turned out, it was a very pleasant surprise.

...

**Sierra Nevadas refers to Call of Nature

***Paris refers to Illya In Paris A Beginning


End file.
